


I'm Gonna Make This Place Your Home

by CatWingsAthena



Category: MacGyver (TV 2016)
Genre: Dehumanization, Found Family, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Torture, Mac is an alien AU, Mac learning how to people, Of a technical nonhuman, Shapeshifters - Freeform, Storm Area 51: They Can't Stop All of Us, Unethical Experimentation, area 51 AU, but still
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-25
Updated: 2019-10-15
Packaged: 2020-10-28 06:10:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 14,245
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20773832
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CatWingsAthena/pseuds/CatWingsAthena
Summary: When Samantha Cage, CIA, recent transfer to Groom Lake, discovers that her agency has been horrifically mistreating an alien in their custody, she resolves to do something about it--possibly involving the creation of an Internet meme.When Jack Dalton, former CIA with PTSD in desperate need of a purpose in life, gets a phone call telling him there's an alien in need of a new home, he's down pretty much immediately. Now to get Riley on board...When Wilt Bozer, aspiring filmmaker trying to make a documentary about the Storm Area 51 proceedings, sees his chance to talk to a real live alien, he's not about to pass it up.When Mac finds out the reason he came to Earth in the first place is moot, anything's possible.Even a new family.





	1. In Which Samantha Cage Refuses to be a Frog

**Author's Note:**

  * For [N1ghtshade](https://archiveofourown.org/users/N1ghtshade/gifts).

> Hey everybody! I don't normally post things I haven't finished, but what can I say, I'm an impatient woman. I'll try to stay at least a chapter ahead. That having been said, no guarantees on update schedule--I'm in school right now, and a bit behind. However, I promise you, I won't abandon this.
> 
> Please be aware that this chapter contains some pretty serious dehumanization (well, technically, the target isn't human, so... de-person-ization?) and references to very nasty medical experiments on a person, as well as references to PTSD.
> 
> Credit where credit's due: I got the idea for this from a Tumblr post read to me by my sister, Kaylee_To_My_Strawberries. The post was, roughly "person A is an alien being held by the government at Area 51 and Person B is a participant in Storm Area 51 and breaks them out". I changed the prompt a little, but oh well.
> 
> Okay, on to the fun part! This work is for N1ghtshade, who, by example, taught me most of what I know about writing AU's in this fandom, as well as being an incredible (and incredibly prolific) writer and a generally kind human. Thank you for the writing advice, the very nice comment replies, and the amazing words you keep giving the fandom. N1ghtshade, and everybody, I hope you enjoy!

**AREA 51**

**AKA HOMEY AIRPORT AKA GROOM LAKE**

**YES, THERE ARE ALIENS HERE (OR ONE, AT LEAST)**

Samantha Cage walked down the halls, matching the steps of the man in front of her.

(People reported feeling more sympathetic with other people when their steps were aligned. This man was her new boss, after all, and she wanted to make a good impression.)

She’d been promoted and transferred to the base a week previously. After days of mandatory briefings—after rumors confirmed—she was finally getting to see it.

The truth behind the legend.

Furthermore, she was going to get into its head.

_ They just keep coming, _ her new boss had said.  _ This one arrived two weeks ago. It was asking if any others had arrived before it. I want to know what it really wants. Aliens don’t just come to Earth to play hide-and-seek. We need to know if it’s a threat. _

_ Understood _ , Cage had said. She looked forward to the challenge.

Cage didn’t know what she’d been expecting, when she walked through the layers of doors and gates up to the window looking into the small room.

What she saw was definitely not it.

The creature looked exactly like a tech who worked on the base. Every detail of his uniform, every feature of his face was perfectly replicated. With one exception—on his chest, there was a y-shaped mark that disturbed the uniform. It had ruffled, shiny grey edges, and looked inflamed, fading into cloth as it went out.

When the door opened, the creature cringed away from the sound. Then, it uncurled and looked at Cage, face full of a mixture of fear and curiosity.

“Hello,” Cage said. “I’m Samantha.” She thought it best to avoid mentioning her last name, given that the creature was currently  _ in _ what amounted to a cage.

“Hello, Samantha,” said the creature. “Are you going to take me to the silver room?” The curiosity in the creature’s face was being quickly dominated by the fear.

“No,” said Cage. “I just want to talk to you.”

“Do you know where they took any others who landed here?” asked the creature, slowly relaxing a bit. “If there were any others like me, where are they?”

“I don’t know,” Cage answered honestly. “I’m new here.” Usually, in an interrogation, it was best to avoid answering any questions, especially those that could reduce your status in the eyes of your interrogatee. But Cage sensed that the creature wouldn’t reveal anything unless it was more at ease, and putting herself on a more even footing with it seemed like a good start.

“I know,” the creature replied. “I haven’t seen you here before. What did you do before you came here?”

Aaaand that was a question Cage was  _ definitely _ not going to answer. “I’d rather talk about you,” she said. “Can you tell me about where you’re from? Do you miss it?”

The creature glared at her. “What do  _ you _ think?”

“I think, if I were you, I’d be tired of being stuck in a cell,” Cage replied. “Looking to make a change. If you answer one question for me, I can swing it with the people in charge to make your life a whole lot easier.”

“I don’t believe you,” the creature said. “You’re new. How much sway can you have?”

Cage smirked slightly. “You’d be surprised.”

The creature paused for a long time.

“I’m not saying I’m going to answer,” it finally said, “but what’s the question?”

“What’s your relationship to the aliens who landed here previously?” asked Cage. “Unless you cared about them very much, you wouldn’t have stayed here for so long.”

“What—what do you mean?”

“I mean,” said Cage, “There’ve been rumors around the base of people in two places at once. I know that’s you. So, if you can escape your cell that easily, and wander the base at will, but always come back in time to avoid detection, there has to be something keeping you here. And, in my experience, people tend to talk about things they care about. Since your arrival, you’ve been asking about the aliens who arrived before you did. So who are they to you?” She paused. “Are they your parents?”

“Are?” The creature looked up, eyes full of hope. “So they’re alive?”

Cage’s heart sank a bit. She’d said “are” to avoid giving it away. Both the aliens who had arrived in the United States previously—one in the eighties, one in the nineties—were dead. From what Cage had been able to piece together, they didn’t survive some particularly zealous experimentation.

But she couldn’t tell the creature that. It’d be crushed—and possibly vengeful.

As long as it believed its parents were alive, it had a vested interest in remaining on base—no matter what the top brass decided to do to it.

And Cage knew.

The way the creature had said  _ the silver room _ . The marks on the creature’s torso. The comments she’d heard from her superiors; the creature’s cringing, frightened body language.

It was kind of hard to miss.

And the creature could have left at any time.

But it stayed.

The creature studied Cage’s face. “Where are they? Are they okay? Did they get away?” It paused and looked Cage directly in the eye. “Why are you hurting us?”

Cage felt something she thought she’d forgotten how to feel.

A pang of conscience.

Cage knew the story about the frog in the pot of boiling water. If you just dropped a frog into boiling water, the story went, it would hop out, but if you put a frog in cold water and slowly turned up the heat, it would cook before it realized what was happening.

It wasn’t true of frogs, of course. But it said something true about humans.

Over the years, the heat around Cage had been turning up.

Now, it was coming to a boil, and she had a choice to make.

Last chance to hop out.

As she conducted the rest of the “interview”—carefully obtaining nothing useful—she was coming up with a plan.

Despite what she’d said, she knew the alien most likely wouldn’t be able to escape the base alone. Its cell, sure, but the base was heavily guarded, with nothing but flat terrain for miles around. Damn near escape-proof.

Unless Cage came up with a  _ really _ good distraction.

If she went through with her plan, she knew, innocent people might die. But if she didn’t, a kind, innocent creature— _ person _ —would be slowly tortured to death.

In Cage’s world, there was no room for doubting yourself.

Cage went home and got on the Internet.

She really hoped this worked.

...

**LOS ANGELES**

**JACK AND RILEY’S APARTMENT**

Riley walked into the living room, stepping loudly to announce her presence, and saw Jack, in his bathrobe, on the computer.

Given that he was out in the living room, she thought it was safe to look at the screen, so she did.

And caught the words “Storm Area 51—They Can’t Stop All Of Us”.

She knew Jack was into alien stuff, but this was ridiculous. “Excuse me?”

Jack looked up. “I’m going crazy in here, Riles. I need something to do.”

_ Okay, hold up.  _ “Wait,” said Riley. “You can’t  _ actually _ be planning to...”

“Listen, I know it sounds crazy, but—”

“It sounds a little past crazy! I mean, don’t get me wrong, I’m thrilled you want to leave the house, but is this really the best way to do that?” She paused. “I don’t have to tell you what could happen.”

Until a few months ago, until the mission where everything went wrong, until Jack’s PTSD had forced him out and Riley had left to take care of him, Jack and Riley had worked for the CIA. The same organization that, together with the United States Air Force, ran Groom Lake.

They both knew the CIA didn’t take kindly to trespassers.

“I know,” Jack said. “And I don’t expect you to get involved. In fact, I’d rather you didn’t. But I’m doing this.”

“You know there aren’t actually any aliens at Area 51, right?”

“That right there? That is exactly what they want you to think.”

Riley sighed. “I just—I don’t want to lose you. Or—have you get worse.”

Jack looked Riley in the eye. “I need this.”

Riley shook her head. “I can’t talk you out of this, can I?”

“Nope.”

“Then I’m in.”

“Whoa, hold it right there, young lady, I am not having you risk going back to prison on my account!”

Prison. The thought made Riley’s heart catch. Still. If Jack was going in, she wasn’t letting him do it alone. “I won’t go in with you physically. I’ll just be tech support. You  _ know _ I won’t get caught.” She looked at Jack. “Do you trust me?”

“Of course, Ri, but...”

“That’s settled then.”

...

**AREA 51**

“Are you sure about this?”

“ _ Yes, _ I’m sure. I’ve developed a full psychological profile of Phoenix Three, and it isn’t going to hurt us. It  _ wants _ to tell us why it’s here—the only reason it hasn’t so far is because, understandably, it doesn’t think we’re trustworthy.” Cage looked her boss directly in the eye. “I’m aware you’ve been vivisecting it. How are you keeping it alive?”

“That’s the fascinating thing,” Cage’s boss said. “We discovered this with the first one who landed—it was badly injured in the crash, but healed itself within a day. They have remarkable regenerative properties—we think it goes with the shapeshifting. We believe it could have medical applications in human beings—helping people regrow lost limbs, helping paralyzed people walk again, and so on. Hence the title of our project—PHOENIX.”

“Interesting,” said Cage. “Has it occurred to you to use an anesthetic?”

Cage’s boss scoffed. “Don’t tell me you’re going soft on me. You know perfectly well that the dangers of experimenting with anesthetics and analgesics in a creature of unknown biology far outweigh any benefit.”

Cage resisted the urge to kick the man in the face. “You know I’m not prone to going soft,” she said. “Check my record.”

Her boss nodded. “So what’s this about?”

“Like I said, this creature wants to cooperate, but won’t unless it trusts us,” Cage said. “Cruelty will get us nowhere. The same is true of some humans, I’ve found. It may be too late to get this particular alien on board with helping us—I wish you’d brought me on sooner—but we may still be able to pull it off.”

“How so?”

“Make it think we’ve realized the error of our ways and are performing a full organizational overhaul,” Cage said. “That its previous treatment was due to a few bad apples. Bring on new people—if you don’t trust enough new people, just shuffle the roles around. Explain to it why you’re doing what you’re doing. And  _ ask _ it about anesthetics.”

Slowly, her boss nodded again.

“I’m going to go check on it,” Cage said.

She walked away, keeping her relief on the inside.

When she arrived, the alien, wearing another tech’s face, looked up at her with a guarded but hopeful expression. “How did it go?”

(After her first conversation with the alien, she’d insisted that the microphones in the room and adjacent area be turned off whenever she was in there, to “give her more freedom to work”. The upper echelons had reluctantly agreed.)

“I couldn’t get them to stop,” Cage said, “but they’re going to ask you about anesthetics that work for you. It shouldn’t hurt anymore.”

“Really?” The alien’s reply was so tentative it made Cage want to strangle everyone who’d ever hurt this—this innocent.

“Really,” said Cage. “And there’s something else.”

“What?”

“I’m going to get you out.”


	2. In Which We Load Up A Very Peculiar Car Full of People

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey everybody! This chapter contains continued references to nasty, torturous medical experiments on a person (just, blanket warning for that from here on out), mentions of PTSD, and some swearing (likewise--not every chapter will have it, but I probably won't catch it all if I try to let you know chapter-by-chapter).
> 
> Also, note I really should have put on the first chapter, but those notes were getting too long: this fic owes a major debt of gratitude to my dear friend, Vita_Sine_Fantasy_Mors_Est, for listening to multiple drafts, offering suggestions, and letting me bounce things off her ad nauseam (although she's not even in this fandom), as well as being a generally excellent roommate and friend. Vita, I don't know what I'd do without you.
> 
> Also, MAJOR thanks to N1ghtshade for making a moodboard for this fic!!! If you're interested, it can be found here: https://thethistlegirl.tumblr.com/post/187949338441/im-gonna-make-this-place-your-home-chapter-1
> 
> Anyway, everybody, I hope you enjoy!

Over the next few days, Cage made ready.

She told the alien the truth—that his parents were dead (Cage wasn’t sure what the alien’s actual gender was, or if his species even had such a concept, but he seemed to prefer wearing male faces, although not exclusively, so she’d started thinking of him as a _ he _ . Thinking of him as an _ it _ just felt wrong, now). He took the news better than she’d feared. At first, he’d been upset, but soon enough, he’d nodded and said, “that’s probably for the best.” (Which was true, but made Cage hate the system that _ made _ it true that much more.) She told him approximately what was going to happen, and when. She arranged her schedule; she kept quiet in the increasingly ridiculous briefings; she nodded along as her boss told her about the alien making an anesthetic out of chemicals they happened to have lying around; she bided her time.

She’d thought about what would happen after. She could take the alien and run, try to help him herself. But, if she was being honest, she wasn’t willing to do that. She’d risk her career and her life for him, but she wouldn’t throw them away.

That left finding him someone else. Someone who could—and would—care for a traumatized alien who would need to hide from the government for the rest of his life.

So she tracked the traffic on the Facebook page she’d set up, looking for a likely candidate.

One name in particular caught her eye.

Jack Dalton.

She didn’t know him in person, but she knew him by reputation. Former Delta, then CIA. They’d briefly overlapped, although they’d never worked together. Still, she’d heard tell of his skill at getting the job done, fierce loyalty, and dedication to those he worked with—especially his partner, Riley Davis. Those two were an unusual enough story that half the CIA knew it—Davis had gotten herself into prison for hacking, and Dalton had convinced his boss to get her conditional release for helping them with a computer problem on a ticking clock—apparently, he’d known her previously (just how was up in the air). Since then, Davis had helped the CIA however she could.

So, someone who actually stood a chance of getting near and away from a military base alive, and who might make a decent caretaker to the alien once they were out.

After some digging, Cage picked up the phone.

...

**JACK AND RILEY’S APARTMENT**

The phone call came in as Jack was eating dinner.

Riley was in her room, doing some complicated thing or other on her computer—Jack didn’t know most of what she got up to, and he figured it was probably better he didn’t.

Jack picked up. “Hello.”

“Hello,” said an Australian-accented woman’s voice on the other end. “Am I speaking to Jack Dalton?”

“Why?” asked Jack.

“My name is Samantha Cage,” the woman said. “I work at Area 51. I understand you’re planning to storm the place?”

“What?” said Jack. “That’s crazy talk, I don’t know what you’re...”

“For a spy, you’re not a very good liar,” said Cage with a hint of amusement. “I know who you are and what you do, and what you’re planning on doing. And I need your help.”

Jack was silent for a moment. “Then you know I’m no good to anybody anymore.”

“I know you left your job because of Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder,” Cage said. “I know you love Riley like a daughter, and wish you could take care of her instead of her having to take care of you. I know you’re going to a place where you’re likely to be shot at, despite knowing it could make things worse, just to prove to yourself that you can. I know you need something to give your life purpose again. I have just the thing.” She paused. “Can I trust you?”

“I don’t know who you are,” said Jack, “or how the fuck you know all that—”

“I read your file.”

“You—_ what? _How?”

“Just a little social engineering. Nothing too difficult.”

Jack shook his head. “Remind me never to piss you off.”

“_ Anyway _,” said Cage. “Can I trust you?”

“Yes.”

“What would you say if I told you it’s all true?”

“You mean... there really are aliens?” Jack whooped. “I knew it!”

“One alien. And he’s being shamefully mistreated. I orchestrated this entire event to break him out. And I need someone to take care of him.”

“You mean... You want _ me _ to...”

“You’ll be in hiding from the government, but he’s a shapeshifter, so that shouldn’t be too difficult. He’s traumatized, and knows very little of life on Earth—you’ll have to start from the ground up.”

“Hang on,” Jack said. “Are you sure this alien’s trustworthy?”

“As sure as I can be,” Cage replied. “And I’m _ very _ sure he doesn’t deserve what’s being done to him. It’s a risk I’m willing to take. What about you?”

Jack paused, then nodded, before remembering he was on a phone call. “Yeah.”

“Good. I’ll get the alien as far outside the base as I can, but you’ll still have to get a vehicle close. There’s an entrance on the southeast side that’s not on any map, which leaked to the public about five minutes ago. Naturally, crowds will be concentrated there, which will make it the perfect place for a handoff.”

“Because he’s a shapeshifter,” said Jack. “I like the way your mind works.”

“We’ll be in uniform, pretending to be crowd control. When we see your vehicle, we’ll make the handoff and you get out of there as fast as you can.”

Something had been bothering Jack throughout this entire conversation. “Hold on,” he said. “Does this ‘alien’ have a name?”

“We call him Phoenix Three,” said Cage, “but... he said I could call him MacGyver.”

They continued to discuss details for a while, until Jack’s dinner had gotten cold and his mind was swirling with excitement.

When he hung up the phone, Jack smiled.

Oh, Riley was gonna be _ so _ pissed.

...

**OUTSIDE AREA 51**

**TODAY’S THE DAY**

The morning of the event dawned sunny and predictably hot.

Jack and Riley sat in a car several miles from the facility, Jack behind the wheel (Riley had tried to drive, but Jack had stopped her with a glare that told her exactly where _ that _ idea was going.) They’d been driving all night—they’d decided, by mutual agreement, not to deal with the swirling vortex of chaos that any motel in the region had likely descended into—but neither one of them felt tired.

Their lives were about to change dramatically, and they had no idea how.

Jack had briefed Riley on Cage’s plan. At first, she’d had trouble believing that Jack wasn’t having his leg pulled. Then, she’d been predictably pissed off that Jack had agreed to welcome an alien into their home and hide said alien from the government without so much as consulting her, but she’d calmed down eventually. She didn’t want to see an innocent hurt any more than Jack did, and thus conceded that _ someone _ needed to help the alien, and it might as well be them.

Just then, the people started to arrive.

At first, it was easy to keep them back. The guards, out in force and armed, were a sufficiently intimidating presence that most of the flock stayed in their cars.

Jack and Riley drove in closer.

As more and more people arrived, the equation started to change. Some grew bold enough to leave their vehicles and try to storm the gate. They drew back at the threat of the guards’ weapons, but with the rapidly swelling numbers, crowd control became more difficult.

That was when Jack saw them.

A blonde woman and a dark-haired man, both in uniform, the man leaning on the woman in a way that indicated he was trying to hide a serious injury. Jack remembered what Cage had said about the facility’s treatment of the alien—MacGyver—and winced in sympathy.

As the pair made their way toward the edge of the crowd, Jack hopped out of the car. “Stay there,” he told Riley, who, knowing better than to argue, did.

When Jack reached Cage and MacGyver, he looked Cage in the eye for a moment. She looked back at him with an intensity that surprised him. “Don’t let him down,” she said.

Jack didn’t answer. Instead, he looked at MacGyver.

“I’m Jack,” he said. “Come with me, I’m gonna get you out of here.”

MacGyver nodded, and put an arm around Jack’s shoulder, transferring some of his weight from Cage to Jack. Jack put an arm around his waist and started helping him to the car.

When he got there, there was a man in the backseat.

Well, more of a kid, really. He looked younger than Riley, maybe early or mid-twenties. On his person were a large black bag and a camera.

Jack bundled MacGyver into the backseat next to him—best to get him out of sight ASAP—then turned to Riley.

“He climbed in before I could stop him,” Riley said. “No idea.”

Jack stared the kid down with his best Delta Glare. “Who are you, and what are you doing in my car?”

The kid looked scared as hell, but to his credit, he didn’t look away. “My name’s Wilt Bozer, but everyone calls me Bozer. I’m a filmmaker—well, an aspiring filmmaker—and I was here to make a documentary about the Storm Area 51 event, but then I saw you make the handoff with that lady from the base and pick up the alien,” the kid—Bozer—said.

“You’ve been watching too many movies, kiddo,” said Jack. “I can’t say what we’re doing beyond that it involves transporting an agent who was injured in a work accident to a hospital, and under the circumstances—” Jack gestured at the crowds, “we thought it would be best if we did that on the down low.”

Bozer looked at him suspiciously. “I made a spy movie once, and I did a lot of research. I know a handoff when I see one. You two, you probably work for the government, of course you’re good liars. But you—” he turned to MacGyver. “Are you an alien?”

“No.” Profoundly unconvincing.

“Figured you’d be a bad liar,” Bozer said triumphantly. 

“Look,” said Riley. “We don’t have time for this. We have to get out of here.”

“You’re taking me with you,” said Bozer. “Look, I swear, on anything you like, I won’t film anything, I won’t release footage, none of that. But I’m not missing the chance to talk to an actual alien. And you don’t have time to argue.”

“If we throw him out of the car, we attract attention,” said Riley, in an irate tone.

Jack sighed. “Fine. But if you so much as breathe a word of this to the public, if Riley hears one _ whisper _ of this on the Web, you will curse the day you were born.”

Bozer nodded vigorously. “Okay.”

Riley, who had gotten behind the wheel while Jack had been off getting MacGyver, stepped on it.

As they drove away, none of them noticed the man taking a picture of their license plate.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Will that cliffhanger be resolved? Yes it will, but it will take a while. I'm going out of town this weekend, so it may be a while before I can get the next chapter up (I have chapter 3 written, but I don't want to post it without at least being done with 4). Please know that I want to get this out there, too!
> 
> Also: did anyone catch the reference I made? Give me a shout-out in the comments if you did!
> 
> Side note: I discovered while doing research for this fic that the United States Air Force has come up with some pretty weird project names. I mean, HAVE DOUGHNUT? Really? Oh well, as my aforementioned friend Vita said, the US military is big enough that /someone/ in a position of relative power has to have a sense of humor.


	3. In Which Mac Gets His Face, His Name, And Some New Friends

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey everybody! Chapter 4 is written, which means Chapter 3 is going up, yay! Please note that, in addition to the continued blanket warnings from last chapter, this chapter contains references to other forms of torture, descriptions of injuries, and implied nightmares. Hope you enjoy!

**THE NEVADA DESERT**

MacGyver sat in the back of the car and tried to keep a lid on the flood of emotions that had been rising in him since his “escape”— _ really, more like I was stolen. _ He was excited, scared, relieved, tired, in pain, and full of nervous curiosity, all at the same time. The hormones being pumped out by his human body in response to the situation and the painful stimulation it had recently undergone were giving his emotions a flavor he’d only recently grown accustomed to, and he wondered how he would feel about this situation in his usual form.

His thoughts were interrupted when the curly-haired woman—Riley—spoke up from behind the wheel.

“Wait,” she said. MacGyver noticed that they’d gotten far enough away that Area 51 was no longer visible.

Riley pulled over to the side of the road.

“What’s up?” asked Jack from the passenger’s seat.

“I need to check MacGyver for tracking devices.”

“MacGyver’s too long,” said Jack, turning to the backseat. “I’m gonna call you Mac, is that okay?”

_ Mac. _ MacGyver had gotten his name from an old Earth television show he’d watched a bit of as part of the mandatory cultural education process for travelers to other civilizations. (Okay, that particular show hadn’t been mandatory, but after a bit of poking around, he’d discovered it and liked it.) The protagonist’s full name was Angus MacGyver, but he was called “Mac” by those who knew him well.

Jack didn’t know him well, not yet, but maybe someday...

Mac nodded.

Riley took out a metal-looking wand and started waving it over Mac’s body.

“You brought a tracking device detector?” said Jack.

“You know the CIA as well as I do.” Riley continued her sweep. “Why would I  _ not _ have—oh!”

Riley’s device beeped.

_ No, no, no. _ They were tracking him, they could find him and take him back. Not only that, but these people were trying to help him, he was pretty sure. If the people from the base found them, they would be dead.  _ Only one way around this. _

Mac held out his arm. “Can you cut it out?”

“Whoa! Nobody is cutting anything out of anyone!” Jack looked at him, face full of expectation. “Can’t you just... shapeshift it out?”

Mac made a face. “That’s not how that works. My body mass doesn’t turn inside out when I shift, it just changes form. Things inside me stay inside.”

“Hang on,” said Jack, suspicious. “How did you not know you had a tracker in your arm? You’re a shapeshifter, you’ve got to be pretty aware of if there’s something weird going on with your body.”

Mac cringed. If Jack didn’t trust him, things could go very badly for him indeed. “I knew there was  _ something _ there, but I didn’t know what it was. I wasn’t... exactly paying attention when they put it in.” He looked down.

Jack’s expression softened. “Hey,” he said. “I’m not mad at you. Riley, can you... scramble the tracker’s brains, or something?”

“Yeah, I should be able to find the wavelength it’s broadcasting on and ‘scramble its brains’ pretty good.” Riley hopped out of the driver’s seat, grabbed a black bag from by Mac’s feet, climbed into the recently-vacated passenger’s seat as Jack stepped into the driver’s side and took off, took what looked like a laptop computer out of the bag, opened it, and started typing. After a few minutes, she shut her laptop with a  _ click _ .

“Tracker is down for the count,” she said, waving her detector over Mac’s arm again just to be sure.

Mac smiled. “Thank you.”

Riley looked surprised. “You’re welcome.” She smiled. Then, the smile dropped off her face. “But don’t thank me yet. You’re a shapeshifter?”

Mac nodded.

“Where do you get your faces?”

“From people I’ve seen.”

“So, people who work on base?”

“Yeah.”

Riley frowned. “They’ll be searching for the faces of all their employees as soon as they notice you’re gone. Best to assume they already have—”

“So I should shift into a form they won’t recognize as soon as possible.”

“How many humans who don’t work at Area 51 have you seen?”

“Since I’ve gotten here, only the people in the crowd outside the base,” Mac said. “But I watched a lot of American media before I came here, as part of the preparation for travel to a new culture. So I can probably find someone.”

“Well, do it fast,” Jack interjected from the front seat.

Mac closed his eyes for a moment.

He realized that this would probably be the body he ended up with for the duration of his stay on Earth—which, given that the people at Area 51 still had his transport, would likely be the rest of his life. Big decision. His best bet would probably be to go with an extra, but, to be honest, his memory was limited by his currently human brain, and he didn’t remember any of the extras from the movies and shows he’d seen well enough to reproduce them. Best to go with someone he did remember... A fairly minor character... A body he wanted to live in... 

He had it.

He started shifting.

It felt weird, to shift under the uniform Samantha had gotten for him to cover up his injuries. The stitches in his skin pulled and  _ hurt _ , but he kept going. His shoes were the wrong size, a little too small, as were the rest of his clothes.

From the seat next to him, he heard Bozer’s cries of “Oh, God”.

When he opened his eyes, Bozer was staring at him in mingled horror and awe. Riley, swiveled in her seat, and Jack, watching in the rearview mirror, looked perfectly calm.

“Sorry I scared you,” he told Bozer.

“It’s okay,” said Bozer. “Sorry for freaking out, I’ve just...”

“Never seen anything like this before?” said Mac. “Understandable.”

“Hang on,” said Bozer. “Are you that guy from X-Men? Havok?”

_ Dammit. _ “Am I too recognizable?” Mac asked. “Should I change it?”

“Nah, I think it’s fine,” said Bozer, with a slight nervous smile. “Most people’ll just write it off as a weird look-alike thing.”

Slowly, Mac nodded. “Riley?”

“I mean, he’s probably right that most people won’t think anything of it, but if you want to play it safe...”

Mac knew his shifting had disturbed Bozer, and, while Bozer wasn’t one of the people trying to help him, he still didn’t want to cause him unnecessary harm. So, if both Bozer and Riley said it was okay for him to stick with this body, he would. “I think I’ll stay like this for now.”

“Up to you,” said Riley.

They drove on.

...

**MOTEL IN NOWHERE, CALIFORNIA**

**GOOD PLACE FOR ALIEN AND CO. TO STOP FOR THE NIGHT**

By the time they pulled into the motel parking lot, although she didn’t want to admit it, Riley was exhausted.

She’d been up for over 36 consecutive hours—nowhere near the longest she’d pulled, not when you counted missions, but, without a pressing problem, quite enough to make her eyelids droop. It was strange, how much this little excursion was starting to feel like a mission from the old CIA days. Riley hoped having someone else’s trauma to deal with would help pull Jack out of his head and not just make things worse...

“Okay,” said Jack, breaking Riley out of her rambling thoughts. Riley shook her head. She needed to focus. “Riley, out. You two—” he gestured at Mac and Bozer—“stay in the car. And Mac, if you’ve got some sort of freaky super-hearing, don’t use it.”

“I don’t—”

“Good.”

Riley got out of the car, and the door slammed closed.

Jack looked at Riley. “So, how we gonna play this?”

“What do you mean?”

“Room assignments. I don’t trust Bozer not to run off and blab to the world that he saw an alien, and frankly, I’d rather not leave Mac alone. And I don’t want to leave Bozer alone with Mac, either—he’s so excited about a ‘real live alien’, I don’t trust him not to completely mess things up. I don’t want you alone with Bozer, either—I don’t like the way he was looking at you earlier—”

“ _ Jack, _ ” said Riley in an exasperated tone. “I can take care of myself.”

“I know that, but I’d rather you didn’t have to. I’m not saying I think Bozer’d try anything—I think he’s a decent kid who’s in way over his head right now—but I’d rather not chance it. That leaves me with Bozer, and you with Mac. Is that cool with you?”

After a moment, Riley nodded. “If it’s cool with you.”

Jack didn’t respond. Instead, he opened the car door. “Okay, here’s the deal—Bozer, you’re rooming with me, Mac, you’re with Riley.”

Two nodding heads.

“All right, let’s go.”

...

**MAC AND RILEY’S ROOM**

The moment Riley and Mac arrived at their room, Mac made a beeline for the bed further from the door.

Immediately, he climbed in, slipped under the covers, and closed his eyes.

Within about five seconds, he opened them again.

“I don’t like this,” he announced.

Riley was barely holding back her giggles.  _ I guess I’m more tired than I thought. _ “Well, generally you take off some of your clothes to sleep,” she said. “Your shoes at the very least.”

“Oh.” Mac removed his shoes and dropped them unceremoniously to the floor.

“If you want to take off your uniform jacket to sleep, at least, I won’t look,” said Riley.

Mac drew back.

Riley’s mental alarm bell went off.

“Mac,” she said slowly, “how badly are you hurt?”

Mac shrugged. “I’m okay.”

Riley’s mental alarm bell was now a shrieking siren. “Let me rephrase that.  _ Where _ are you hurt?”

Mac looked away and vaguely gestured to his torso.

“And you didn’t tell us this before... because?”

“I heal on my own,” said Mac. “They already stitched it up, and I don’t need antibiotic stuff because I don’t get infections.”

Riley had figured whatever it was would be bad enough for stitches, but she still wasn’t pleased to hear confirmation. “May I see it?”

“Why?”

“Because, even if there’s nothing I can do to make it heal better, I still want to know what we’re dealing with. And you’re in a human body right now—who knows, maybe there’s something I know about wound care that you don’t.”

Slowly, Mac nodded.

And took off his jacket.

Riley’s breath hissed out through her teeth.

Underneath was a massive, Y-shaped cut that covered Mac’s entire torso. The edges were shiny and grey. It was already knitting itself back together, but still oozing faintly. The stitches Mac had mentioned were still starkly visible.

“Holy shit, Mac,” whispered Riley. “I’m gonna call Jack in here, is that okay?”

“Yeah.”

Riley picked up the phone. “Yeah, it’s me. Come in here. Mac’s hurt bad. He says there’s nothing we can do to help, but bring the first aid kit from the car anyway.” She hung up.

“I told you, I don’t need...”

“It’ll make me feel better to have it on hand anyway in case things go sideways, okay?”

“Um... okay.”

“And you’re sure there’s no risk of infection?” Riley asked, looking at Mac’s wound again.

Mac shot her a mildly annoyed look. “Positive. My biology doesn’t work that way.”

Riley nodded. “Then you’re probably right, there’s nothing we can do for it. I’d say you might be more comfortable if it was dressed, but I’m not sure we have enough bandages.”

“It’s all right,” said Mac. “I’ll be fine.”

_ Yeah, right. _ Riley had seen some ugly things in her time working for the CIA. She’d seen the results of torture, on herself, Jack, and others. She’d seen broken bones, burns, gunshot wounds, and a whole litany of other crap that would fill a medical encyclopedia. She’d never seen anything like this.

This was  _ surgical. _

Only she was pretty sure the assholes who did this hadn’t been interested in  _ saving _ Mac’s life.

A moment later, Jack barged in with Bozer in tow.

“What’s wrong with... oh God,” said Bozer, running over to Mac. “Mac, what’d those bastards do to you?”

“See for yourself,” Mac muttered.

“Oh God,” Bozer whispered again. “I’m sorry.”

“What’re  _ you _ sorry for?” asked Mac, sounding legitimately curious.

“You... you came to Earth, probably trying to make some kind of peaceful first contact, right? And this is what we humans do to you.” Bozer looked deeply upset. “I’m sorry for that.”

“Hey,” said Mac, reaching out and putting a hand on Bozer’s shoulder. “You’re not responsible for what some people at Area 51 decided to do. And this wasn’t first contact—we’ve been here before.”

“Tryin’ really hard not to shout ‘I knew it’ and ruin the moment,” whispered Jack.

“Besides, it wasn’t like you think,” Mac said. “They weren’t hurting me for no reason. I mean, I’m not saying it was right, but... they thought my biology could have medical applications. I’d have helped them if they’d asked, but...” he paused. “Eventually, they told me what they were doing, and let me make anesthetics so it didn’t hurt as much—”

“You know that doesn’t make it better, right?” Jack interjected. “Nothing could  _ ever _ excuse... this.”

Mac shrugged. “Yeah. But still, I wouldn’t be as upset as I am if it wasn’t for what they did to my parents.”

“Your parents?” Bozer looked up.

“Yeah, my parents. That’s why I came to Earth, actually. My... well, I’ll say my mom and dad, it’s more complicated than that on my planet but I don’t really have the language to easily describe it... My ‘mom’ was a scientist who went to Earth when I was very young. It was supposed to be a simple observation mission, no contact. She never came back. A little later, my ‘dad’ went on a mission to look for her. He never came home either. So, when I got old enough, I... went looking for them.” He looked down. “I got my answer. Two of my species were previously captured by the United States government and held at the Groom Lake facility, where they died.”

“I’m sorry,” said Jack.

They all sat with that until Riley broke the silence.

“So, hang on...” she said. “You said you went looking for your parents as soon as you were old enough. How old are you?”

“Depends how you count,” said Mac. “Going strictly by Earth time, I’m forty-two, but my species’ rate of maturation is very different from yours—a lot slower. In human years, I’d be about...” he thought for a moment. “Between twenty and twenty-three.”

“Jesus,” said Jack. After a moment, he seemed to collect himself. “I know you said there’s nothing we can do to help you. But are there any over-the-counter painkillers that work?”

Mac tilted his head. “I don’t know, I’ve never tried, but... they should? Non-steroidal anti-inflammatories are the most common, right?”

Jack already had the kit open. “I’ve got some Advil right here. Is there any reason you’d need a different number than a human would?”

“I mean, my liver’s probably slightly more efficient at clearing them from my system, but otherwise, no.”

“Then take four.”

Riley got Mac a cup of water from the sink, mentally kicking herself as she did so for not having asked about painkillers first thing. “Let me know if you have a weird reaction to those.”

“I will.”

“Okay, everyone, we should all get some sleep so we can leave bright and early tomorrow,” Jack interjected. “Mac, Riley, you good if we leave?”

Nods.

“Okay. Get some sleep, assuming that’s what you do.” That last bit said while looking at Mac.

“My species are unihemispheric slow-wave sleepers in our usual form,” said Mac, “but in human form, yes, I sleep like a human.”

“Uni-what?”

“We sleep with only one side of the brain at a time—with one eye open.”

“Okay, that’s cool.”

Mac smiled a little.

Jack and Bozer left, and Mac and Riley went to bed.

After about fifteen minutes of lying in the dark, Riley heard Mac’s voice.

“Riley?”

“Yes?”

“Why did humans evolve dreaming?”

Riley heard the question behind that question, but decided to act as though she hadn’t, at least to begin with. “Well, no one really knows. Some people think it’s to practice for things that might happen, and some people think it’s just a byproduct of the way our brains happened to develop. And some people think dreams have meaning.”

“What do you think?”

“I don’t know. But if I had to guess? I’d say they show what you’re thinking about—sometimes. And sometimes they’re just random, and don’t mean anything.”

Silence.

Then:

“I think the random kind are better.”

“Yeah.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello again, friends! About my original!MacGyver reference: obviously it's not the same show--there would be too many weird coincidences, Jack Dalton for starters--but it's something similar. Which means I may have the slightly dubious honor of having written the sole fic in this fandom where both the original MacGyver show and Lucas Till exist (if anyone knows I'm wrong about that, please let me know). I'm not sure when the next chapter will be up--as I said, I want to keep a one-chapter buffer, so it'll depend on when I can write chapter 5--but I hope 'twill be soon. Best!


	4. In Which Mac Receives an Education in the Fine Art of Lying Your Ass Off

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, everybody! This chapter contains references to PTSD (blanket warning for that from here on out), faking a disability on behalf of someone else, and mild implied ableism. Also, I would like to thank my dear friend and previous roommate, known on this site as Nerdycraftgirl, for both listening to this fic and listening to my MacGyver ramblings non-stop for months, even though she's not in the fandom. Nerdycraftgirl, you are glorious. Anyway, on to the fic! Hope you enjoy!

**SOMEWHERE IN CALIFORNIA**

“Hang on,” said Bozer as they drove down the road. “Is this the way to LA?”

“Yeah,” said Jack. “You got a problem with that?”

“No,” Bozer replied. “It’s just, I live there too.”

“Wow,” said Riley. “That is officially weird.”

“Hey, I’m just there for Hollywood,” said Bozer. “Hoping to make it big-time... eventually.”

Riley snorted.

“Hey! Have you even  _ seen _ any of my films? No, you have not! So don’t judge.”

Riley didn’t answer.

“So, you gonna go home then?” asked Jack. “Space at our place is gonna be tight even with just Mac added to the mix.”

“I mean, I can,” said Bozer, “but I’ll be over as much as I can. The more people who can help Mac learn about human stuff, the better, right? I mean, Mac, it’s not gonna be easy. Humans are complicated.”

Mac, meanwhile, had his face glued to the window. “You wanna roll that down, be my guest,” said Jack. 

After a moment, Mac got the window open. He promptly stuck his head out, resembling nothing so much as a puppy leaning out a car window to catch a breeze.  _ I wonder if he’d ever really seen an Earth sky before he escaped. _

Bozer felt kind of terrible for how he’d talked about Mac, right in front of him, the first time they’d met. He’d been so excited to meet an alien, he’d forgotten said alien was a  _ person _ —a traumatized person, at that. Now, he wanted to make it up to him.

But how?

“Hey Mac,” said Bozer, tapping Mac on the shoulder until Mac brought his head back inside the car. “You ever heard Earth music?”

“Yeah,” said Mac. “Most of your great composers... some popular music...”

“Oh no, we need to fix that. Here’s some actual  _ good _ music.” Bozer pulled out his phone, tapped a few times, and the beat of “Superfly” filled the car. Bozer started to dance in his seat, and Mac smiled and tried to copy his movements. 

Bozer smiled. “Okay, we can teach you how to dance later.”

“Hold up,” said Jack, “that is NOT good music!”

“Tell you what,” said Riley, speaking loudly to be heard over the music, “we can each play him one song, then repeat in a cycle until we’re home. Sound good?”

“Works for me,” said Bozer, and Jack nodded.

(Later, there was disagreement on whether Mac didn’t like Metallica, or whether he just didn’t like Jack’s singing. Mac declined to settle the matter.)

...

**JACK AND RILEY’S APARTMENT**

**NOW JACK AND RILEY AND MAC’S APARTMENT**

**AND KIND OF BOZER’S AS WELL**

“Okay,” said Jack, pushing open the door to their apartment, “Home sweet home.”

Mac walked in after him, looking around with wide eyes.

“If you have questions, just ask,” said Riley, walking through the door after Mac.

Mac didn’t answer, besides a noncommittal hum.

Jack, meanwhile, was checking the fridge.

“Don’t tell me,” said Riley, “it’s been too long since we made a grocery run?” She glared at Jack, although there was no real force behind it. “Probably because it’s your turn to get groceries?”

“Okay, okay,” said Jack, “I know when I’m beaten. I’ll go get the groceries, and you can get Mac settled in—”

“Actually, could I come along?”

A moment of silence followed Mac’s unexpected request, which, based on Mac’s expression, had been expected least of all by Mac himself. Having spoken up, however, he took a deep breath and carried on. “I haven’t really seen much of Earth—I mean, besides the inside of Area 51, and that motel, and some road, really none of it. So I’d like to see some more.”

Jack nodded. “Works for me. Riley, figure out sleeping arrangements?”

“Will do.”

“Bozer, make yourself useful. I don’t care how.”

“I can cook,” said Bozer. “When you guys get back, I can make dinner.”

“Cool. We’ll be back in an hour, if all goes—nope, I did not say that, forget I said that.”

...

**GROCERY STORE**

Jack stood in the produce section, surrounded by fluorescent lights, squeaky carts, chattering people, annoying music, weird smells, and visual chaos, and breathed.

Grocery runs didn’t used to be this hard.  _ Hypervigilance _ , the therapist he’d been made to see called it. Practically, that translated to trying not to jump out of his skin every time a cart squeaked.

Jack had tried to get Riley to do the shopping, but she’d insisted he needed to get out sometimes. She’d offered to go with him, but he’d replied that he didn’t need a babysitter.

Usually, by this point in a shopping trip, he was wishing, just a little, that he hadn’t been so proud.

“Okay, next we need paper tow—Mac? MAC?” Jack looked around the produce section frantically, and spotted Mac over by the carrots, having grabbed one and started eating it. He rushed over, and his voice dropped to a whisper. “You’re not supposed to eat in stores.”

“Oh,” said Mac, face falling. “Sorry.” He started to put the half-eaten carrot back on the pile.

“No, put that in the cart,” said Jack. “We’ll pay for it on the way out.”

Just then, a woman glared at them. “What do you think you’re doing? That’s disgusting!”

Jack didn’t miss a beat. “My son’s autistic. Have a little patience, will you?”

The woman’s expression turned from anger to embarrassment in the space of half a second. “I’m sorry. Um, have a good day.” She promptly made herself scarce.

Jack smiled a little. “What do you think? Do you like carrots? ‘Cause we can get some if you do.”

“Yeah,” said Mac slowly. “I do like them.”

“Awesome. Put some in the cart. What else do you want to try?”

Mac looked at Jack with a curious expression. “You lied.”

“Yes.”

“You’re a good liar.”

Jack nodded, unsure where this was going. “Yes.”

Mac looked down. “In the car, Bozer said I was a bad liar. But I’m gonna need to lie, probably a lot, if I want to have any kind of life here.” He looked directly at Jack. “Will you teach me how to lie?”

Jack wasn’t quite sure how to feel about that request. But he knew Mac was right—it was a skill he’d need. “Yeah, I will.”

“Thank you.”

“Of course. Now, is there anything else you want to try? Any Earth foods you’ve heard of that sound good?”

Mac smiled a little. “Could we get some ice cream?”

Jack smiled back. “Absolutely. What flavor do you want? I mean, if you know.”

“How about chocolate?”

“Oh, I can do you one better. Ever hear of Rocky Road?”

Mac shook his head.

“It’s chocolate ice cream, but better.”

“Then I want that.”

“Sure thing.”

...

**MEANWHILE, BACK AT THE RANCH**

**ER, THE APARTMENT**

Riley stripped the sheets off her bed, tossing them across the room into a heap. She’d deal with those in a moment. As she started to remake the bed with new sheets, she heard a voice behind her.

“This gonna be Mac’s room?”

“ _ God _ , Bozer!” Riley said, taking a deep breath and slowly feeling her heart rate return to normal. “You scared me.”

“Sorry.”

“And yes, this’ll be Mac’s room. It was mine, but... he needs it more than I do. I can take the couch.”

“Makes sense.”

“So, you’re gonna stay and make dinner?”

“If you’re all okay with that.” He looked away, smiling sheepishly. “I’ll have to go home at some point, but my car is still in Nevada, so...”

“I can help you with that.”

“Really?”

“Yeah. I can get online, pay someone in Nevada to drive your car up here for you and take a plane back or whatever. Make sure they’re trustworthy. I mean, as long as you pay me back. Doesn’t solve your problem tonight, but...”

“Thank you.” Bozer picked up a corner of the sheet and started helping Riley make the bed. “So, who’s Jack to you? Is he your dad?”

Riley suddenly became very interested in tucking the fitted sheet under the corner of the bed. “Might as well be.”

“What’s a pretty girl like you doing still living with her dad? Or her... might-as-well-be-dad, or whatever?”

Riley looked up. “That is absolutely none of your business.”

Bozer raised his hands. “Okay, okay! But... listen for a sec, okay? I might have gotten in your car because I wanted to meet an alien, but I’m still here because I want to help Mac. I  _ know  _ you want that too. And... if we’re working on something together, isn’t it better if we trust each other?” He gestured between them.

“I’m sorry,” said Riley. “I don’t work that way.”  _ If you want me to trust you, you’re gonna have to earn it. _

Bozer nodded. “I saw chicken on your shopping list, I was thinking of making that for dinner. What spices do you have?”

“Just basic stuff,” said Riley. “Salt, pepper, a few other things... I can show you if you want.”

Bozer smiled. “That’d be great.”

...

When they walked back into the apartment, Mac saw Riley walking towards the door. “How did it go?”

“Just fine,” said Jack. “He’ll get the hang of it yet.”

Riley sighed. “What happened?”

Huh. That was odd. Jack had easily fooled the woman in the store. “Can Riley spot your lies because she knows you well?”

“Well, I wasn’t really _ trying _ to fool Riley,” said Jack, coming into the kitchen and setting the grocery bags down on the counter. “The way I said it, ‘he’ll get the hang of it,’ suggested that there was something you needed to get the hang  _ of. _ And yeah, Riley knows me really well. So it wasn’t that hard.”

Riley gave Jack an odd look.

“I asked him to teach me how to lie.” Mac figured it was better to jump in and explain the situation himself, rather than making Jack do it.

Riley nodded. “That’s a good idea.” She looked at Jack. “Want some help?” Then at Mac. “I mean, if that’s cool with you.”

“It is.”

Jack turned to Bozer, who had started unloading the grocery bags. “You good in the kitchen?”

“Oh, yeah. Go teach Mac your creepy secret agent skills.”

He made his way into the living room, and Mac and Riley followed. “Then let’s get started.”

...

Several rounds of Two Truths and a Lie later (Jack and Riley had recruited Bozer to come in and play when he wasn’t busy in the kitchen, to illustrate the difference between a professional liar and a layperson), Mac was making real (and slightly disturbing) progress. At first, they’d tried to explain tells, phrasing, and body language, but they’d quickly figured out that the best teaching technique for Mac was to show him how it was done, then let him figure it out himself through trial and error. And—in the beginning at least—there was a lot of error.

“Do your people lie?” asked Jack, after a particularly ungraceful attempt.

“No,” said Mac. “We don’t.”

“How does that work?” asked Riley.

“We’re just really good at bending the truth, saying one thing and sort of meaning another.”

“That’s weird,” said Jack. “Hang on, you’re smiling—you were lying, weren’t you?”

Mac grinned. “Did I get you?”

Jack smiled back. “Yeah, you did. But then you  _ don’t smile. _ That gives it away.”

Mac nodded, looking chagrined. “Okay.”

“Hey now, it’s all right.” Jack’s voice was soft. “You’ve got time to practice. Hey, after dinner, you want some ice cream?”

“Yeah!”

Riley smiled. “You got him ice cream?”

“He asked!”

“I’m not complaining.” She turned to Mac. “Just wait till you try it. It’s  _ so _ good.”

“Really is,” called Bozer from the kitchen.

“Okay,” said Mac. “Let me try again. My favorite color on the human visual spectrum is green...”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so I have an... unfortunate announcement to make. I'm currently going into my usual Fall depression, which means a) I'm falling behind in my schoolwork and probably won't have the time to write, and b) probably wouldn't have the energy, focus or motivation anyway. For this reason, I'm putting this fic on hiatus until I'm better. I promise, I'm not abandoning it. I don't have chapter 5 written, but I do have some other scenes, including a chunk of the end, so I know what happens, if you find that reassuring. I can even tell you when I'll get back to this--winter break, which for me happens mid-December. (If I can get back to it earlier than that, I will, but that's what I'm assuming.) Thank you all for understanding. I wish you all the best, and bid you an excellent couple months. See you in December!


	5. In Which Everyone In This House Is A Little Bit Broken

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey everybody! I'm posting another chapter, YAY! Here's what happened: I was having a really hard time, so (like she has before) my mom offered to fly out from the West Coast (I go to school on the East) to see me, and this time I actually took her up on it. (Which I'm a little embarrassed about--I'm not a person who accepts help easily--but sometimes you just gotta take the hand that's being held out to you.) Since she's been here, I've been much happier and /much/ more productive, and I'm actually mostly caught up on my schoolwork, for the first time this entire semester! Yay! So serious shout-out to my mom. As a reward for myself, I decided to work on this, so I have another chapter now. Please be warned that it contains references to nightmares, a PTSD flashback, vaguely implied past harm to a child, and very self-critical thoughts. Hope you enjoy!

**JACK, RILEY AND MAC’S APARTMENT**

**APPROXIMATELY 3:00 A.M.**

Jack lay in bed and tried to calm his rapid breathing and heart rate back to something that wouldn’t make a hospital alarm start beeping incessantly.

He’d jolted awake from a dream of Mac on an autopsy table, screaming for help that wasn’t coming. It wasn’t like Jack didn’t have plenty of nightmare material already, but seeing those wounds had definitely added to the nightly rotation.

Then, he realized that not all the sounds were in his mind.

It started as a series of soft gasps, building up to a babble of half-voiced, choked syllables Jack didn’t recognize.

_ People always revert to their native language when they’re in pain. _

And Jack didn’t need to understand the words to recognize begging.

He knew Mac needed to sleep. He also knew that he wouldn’t want to sleep through  _ this _ .

Jack got up and started toward Mac’s room.

He didn’t get more than halfway to the door before he saw Riley coming down the hall towards him. “Hey,” she said. “Let me get this one.”

“Are you sure?”

“I’m sure.” Riley continued toward Mac’s door, gently pushing it open.

Jack went back to bed. Mac didn’t need an audience, and if Jack wasn’t going to be providing comfort, he might as well not stand there and awkwardly eavesdrop.

...Or that was the theory, anyway. In reality, Jack paused a few feet from the door, straining his ears to listen.

“Mac,” called Riley. “Mac!” Her voice was raised, indicating she was trying to wake him without touching him. Good. Jack wished she hadn’t had to learn that lesson the hard way, with  _ him _ .

The sounds stopped. Jack heard rapid breathing, and Riley’s voice. “It’s okay, Mac. You’re in Los Angeles, in the apartment, and you’re safe. Now, I want you to take a deep breath in with me, can you do that?... Good. And, out... good. In... and, out. You’re doing great.”

This continued for a few minutes, with Riley walking Mac through more calming exercises, until Mac spoke up.

“Sorry.” Soft. Ashamed.

“You have nothing to be sorry for,” Riley said firmly. “The only people who have  _ anything _ to be sorry for right now are the ones you were dreaming about.” A pause. “Wanna talk about it?”

The reply was immediate. “No. I mean... it’s not that I don’t trust you, I just... don’t want to bring that here.”

“I get it,” said Riley. “But... can I tell you something?”

“Okay,” said Mac, sounding uncertain.

“I used to be locked up too,” Riley said. “For two years. It wasn’t the same—they didn’t hurt me, not much anyway—but I...” she trailed off. “I know what it’s like to be treated like less than a person.”

“I’m sorry.” Mac’s voice was sincere, shifting to indignant. “You’re amazing. How could anyone ever not see that?”

“I have the same question about you,” said Riley. “And... the only answer I can come up with is... some people are just so caught up in their ideas of what the world is that they don’t notice what’s right in front of them. And it can get so bad that... some people can look at a person and see a thing.”

“Yeah.”

Jack started to go back to bed, when Riley spoke up again.

“Is that true on your planet too?”

“Unfortunately, yes,” said Mac. “We’re not really any better than you. Just more technologically advanced.”

“How have you not blown yourselves up by now?” Riley sounded genuinely curious.

“Because we figured out a while back that it was in our best interests not to do that.” Based on Mac’s tone of voice as he uttered his next sentence, Jack suspected he was smirking. “I never said we weren’t  _ smarter _ than you.”

“Hey!” interjected Riley, but there was no real force behind it. The word was accompanied by a soft  _ thump _ , and Jack wondered if Riley had hit Mac with a pillow.

For a moment, they both laughed softly.

After a moment, Mac spoke.

“I’m sorry I woke you up.”

Riley sighed. “When I was younger, my mom told me something. Someone told her, and then she got so excited about it that she came home and told me, even though I never really needed it. But she did, and I think you might.”

“What?”

“When you want to say  _ I’m sorry _ , think about whether what you really want to say is  _ thank you _ ,” Riley said. “Like, instead of ‘I’m sorry to be a bother,’ try ‘thank you for helping me’. So, what did you mean to say?”

“Thank you for coming in here and talking to me,” said Mac. “And for not minding that I woke you up. And for everything else.”

“You’re welcome.”

There was a pause.

Then:

“I don’t know if I can sleep any more tonight.” Mac sounded embarrassed. “But I don’t want to be alone in the dark... would you stay? We can go out to the kitchen and get ice cream or something? I mean, I totally get it if you want to sleep, it’s fine, but...”

“Ice cream sounds good to me,” said Riley, “but after that, I want you to try to sleep.”

“Okay.”

Jack hastily made his way down the hall so as not to be spotted. He ducked into his room just as the door to Mac’s room opened.

He smiled slightly.

Jack slept the rest of the night without being woken by a single dream.

...

The next morning, Mac woke up, and for a moment wasn’t certain where he was.

The surface under him was much too soft to be the floor of his cell, and the people on the base had never given him blankets. Or a pillow. Or— _ oh, right! _

Recollection came flooding back. He was with Jack and Riley, he was safe. And last night, Riley had been so nice to him when he’d had a nightmare...

_ Oh, no. _ Riley had been nice to him, but what about Jack? He knew he’d been pretty loud while in the grips of the dream, he’d probably woken Jack up. What if Jack thought he was weak or too much to deal with and didn’t want to help him any more? Where would he go?

He was fairly certain he could figure out a way to survive on his own—he’d always been good at improvising, and now that he could lie convincingly, it would be much easier—but the truth was, he didn’t  _ want _ to. He  _ liked _ Riley and Jack and even Bozer. He wanted to stay with them, if they’d allow it.

He really hoped they’d allow it.

Oh well. Only one thing to be done about that—show them he could be useful. That he wasn’t broken. That he was worth keeping around.

That started with getting up.

Mac’s wound was pretty much healed, but the stitches, self-dissolving though they were, hadn’t dissolved yet. The result was stitches pulling at perfectly healthy flesh every time he moved.

Mac swung his legs out of bed and slowly stood up, ignoring the pain.  _ Yeah, this is fine. I can do this. _

The night before, Jack had given him an old t-shirt and a pair of his boxers to sleep in. Before that, in the motel, Jack had given him a pair of jeans, his belt and another t-shirt, which he’d worn on the drive home and to the grocery store. Mac put the jeans back on and walked out to the kitchen.

Jack was already there, stepping lightly to avoid disturbing Riley, who was asleep on the couch in the adjacent living room, snoring softly. “Mornin’, sunshine,” he said quietly, then used a flat utensil to turn over what appeared, from Mac’s cultural education, to be pancakes cooking in a frying pan. He had a mug of some pleasant-smelling substance. Mac guessed, from the time of day, that it was coffee, but wanted to be sure.

“Good morning,” Mac whispered back. “Is that coffee?”

“Sure is,” said Jack. “Want to try some?”

“Sure,” said Mac. “It smells good.”

Jack smiled. “Fair warning, it’s an acquired taste.” He handed his mug over to Mac.

Mac took a small sip and drew back as his tongue was assailed by a wave of bitterness. He was tempted to spit out the mouthful, but knew spitting it into Jack’s cup would be rude and didn’t want to make a mess by spitting it on the counter, so he swallowed it as quickly as possible, burning his mouth slightly in the process.

Jack’s smile widened. “That’s a no on the coffee, then?”

Mac shook his head vehemently.

“Your face...”

Just then, Riley’s head popped up from behind the couch. “Morning. What’d I miss?”

“Mac just tried coffee.”

“It’s vile.” Mac pulled another face.

Riley laughed softly. “You let me miss that?” She gave Mac another look, then turned to Jack. “Seriously? After what we learn on our ride home, you give him one of your Metallica shirts?”

Jack turned to Mac. “That reminds me, I need to take you clothes shopping. How does after breakfast sound?”

Mac smiled slightly, daring to hope.  _ If he’s buying me clothes, maybe he plans on keeping me around after all. _ “Sounds good.”

...

**DEPARTMENT STORE**

**MEN’S CLOTHING SECTION**

Mac shuffled through a rack of plaid shirts, feeling the fabric.

Jack had told him to look around, see what he liked. After a stint in the fitting rooms to figure out what size he was, he’d already picked out quite a bit, but Jack had insisted he make one last sweep to see if there was anything else he wanted. He didn’t want to get too much—Jack was being so generous already—but it seemed pointless to argue.

Mac was snapped out of his thoughts when a man and a young girl who Mac assumed was his daughter walked by. The man was half-dragging the child, who was digging her heels in and seemed on the verge of tears.

“Daddy, I wanna go home!”

“I know, kiddo, I know. Just a few more minutes, okay?”

“I wanna go home  _ now! _ ”

“We just need some clothes for your brother, okay?”

“No!”

The man bent down to pick the child up.

The child threw her head back and  _ screamed. _

Next to Mac, Jack  _ froze. _

Mac looked at Jack. He was standing stock-still, and his breath was coming in fast, heavy gasps.

“Jack?” Mac said cautiously.

Jack’s mouth was moving, but Mac couldn’t make out the words.

“Jack, are you okay?”

Dimly, Mac could hear the child continuing to wail, but paid it no mind.  _ What could possibly be wrong with Jack? Will I make it worse if I touch him? What should I do? _

Then, he remembered.

Riley, talking to him the night before.

Riley would know what to do.

“Jack, it’s okay. You’re in Los Angeles, in a department store. You’re safe. Now, can you take a deep breath in with me?”

Mac took an exaggerated deep breath.

Nothing happened.

He slowly blew the breath out and took another, standing close enough that Jack could hear, without touching him.

After about a minute of slow, steady breaths, Jack started to breath along with him.

“You’re doing great.”

Jack looked at him, and for a second he looked furious.  _ No, I did it wrong, what’s going to happen now? _ Then, Jack visibly calmed himself and gave Mac a tiny, weak smile.

“Thanks, kid.”

Mac hoped he meant it.

...

_ Shit. Shit. Shit, shit, shit. _

Having a flashback in front of Mac was  _ not _ how Jack had wanted this shopping trip to go. 

What’s more, the kid was talking to him like Riley did. The  _ only _ person who got away with that was Riley, and he only put up with  _ that _ because she’d been his partner for years—and, all right, because of his distinct lack of other options. Besides, it was embarrassing enough coming from her. From a twenty-in-human-years alien? Not cool.

_ Whoa there. Slow down. He was just trying to help, don’t bite his head off. _ Mac had probably kept Jack from losing it even more than he already had in the middle of a store—he ought to be grateful. Jack knew he tended to get snappy after a flashback—of course, knowing didn’t always make it any easier to deal with, but it was a start.

So he smiled, as much as he could. “Thanks, kid.”

“You’re welcome,” Mac said softly. “You ready to get out of here?”

“Hell yeah.”

They paid for the clothes, got in the car, and left.

...

**JACK’S CAR**

Mac sat in the passenger’s seat and tried to ignore the uncomfortable silence.

It had pervaded the air since they left the store. Jack had paid for the clothes as quickly as he could and left, ignoring the odd looks from strangers that followed them as they went.

Finally, Jack spoke.

“I’m sure you’re wondering what that was about.”

“Yeah,” said Mac. “But you don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to.”

Jack sighed. “Do you know what PTSD is?”

Mac thought for a moment. “No.”

“It’s short for post-traumatic stress disorder. Basically... Riley and I used to work for the government. And no, we weren’t doing anything like what the Groom Lake people were doing—”

“I know,” said Mac. “I don’t believe you could. Either of you. No one who’d turn their lives upside down for a stranger could be involved in anything like that.”

Jack half-smiled. Then, it dropped off his face. “Anyway, there was a mission. And... everything went to hell. I’m not gonna talk about it, cause you’ve got enough to deal with, but... anyway, when a human brain goes through something it can’t handle, things happen. What you saw in there was called a flashback. For—how long was it?”

“About two minutes.”

“For two minutes, I was back there. There’s other stuff too, but that’s one of the things.” He paused. “Frankly, after what happened to you, I’d be surprised if you don’t have the same thing. And I know I’m not exactly a model of healthy coping mechanisms, but... I know some stuff that works. And clearly, Riley’s taught you how to talk someone else down.”

Mac nodded.

“So, if you need to talk—you can talk to me. Or Riley. Don’t tell her I told you this, but she’s got some stuff, too.” He shrugged. “It’s not what you went through, but the point is, you’re not alone.”

Mac smiled slightly. “Thanks.”

“Anytime.”

Mac stared out the window, lost in thought.

He’d been worried Jack would think he was broken. If Jack was a little bit broken too... maybe he didn’t need to worry.  _ Maybe they’ll want me around after all. I’m just like them. _

Mac smiled again.

For the first time in a long time, he was home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello again! Apologies for the dearth of Bozer in this chapter—he’ll be back in the next. I can’t guarantee when the next chapter will be up—it may still be December—but hopefully now that I'm caught up, I can resume writing, so it won't be that long. Best!


	6. In Which The Plot Thickens

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello everybody! Sorry about the chapter title—I ran out of imagination. This chapter contains guns, kidnapping, non-consensual drug use, and Murdoc being creepy. Hope you enjoy!

**MONDAY**

**THE KITCHEN**

“Oh yeah,” said Bozer, walking into the apartment, “I got my car—what are you doing!?”

Mac was lying on the floor, surrounded by what appeared to be parts of the oven, as Jack watched with amusement. “I’m fixing it,” he said. “You said the temperature was fluctuating, I’m trying to find the problem...”

“Can you put it back together?”

“I think so?” Mac sat up, and his face fell. “I should’ve asked you, you’re the one who’s gonna use it most.”

“It’s cool,” said Bozer. “Now, let’s see what our friend Google can do to help us with this situation...”

...

**TUESDAY**

**THE OCEAN**

**BIG, BLUE, AND VERY WET**

“Whoa,” said Mac under his breath, staring out at the water. “It’s beautiful.”

“Do they not have oceans on your planet?” asked Jack from next to him.

“No,” Mac replied. “I mean, we have plenty of water, but most of it’s underground. I’ve never seen this much in one place before.”

Riley smiled. “You wanna come in?”

Mac tugged at the dark-colored shirt he was wearing to cover up the stitches that hadn’t even begun to dissolve. Then, he smiled back. “Yeah.”

...

**TECHNICALLY WEDNESDAY MORNING**

**THE LIVING ROOM**

**HOUR FOUR OF A BRUCE WILLIS MARATHON**

“You ready to go back to bed?” asked Jack as Mac yawned. “And hey, don’t worry about interrupting the movie. We can watch the rest tomorrow.”

“Technically, it is tomorrow,” Riley observed. “Has been for the past five hours.”

“That doesn’t even make any sense,” said Mac, through another yawn. “Tomorrow is, by definition, the day after whatever day it is right now...”

Riley rolled her eyes.

“Go on. Bed,” said Jack. “Sleep in tomorrow—er, today, or whatever.”

...

**WEDNESDAY**

**THE KITCHEN TABLE**

“Dinner is served,” said Bozer triumphantly, putting a platter of burgers down on the table. “Mac, do you know what you want on yours?”

“No.”

“Well then, you’re just gonna have to try a little of everything,” said Jack.

Bozer shook his head. “No, no, you can’t put too much on a burger! It’ll interfere with the balance of flavors!”

“I could cut off a little and dip it in each of the condiments to see what I like,” Mac suggested.

Bozer gave him a dubious look. “You  _ cannot _ use a knife and fork for a burger. That is culinary  _ heresy! _ ”

Jack and Riley gave him matching dubious looks.

“No one appreciates my art in this house.”

...

**THURSDAY**

**OUTSIDE THE APARTMENT**

The man watched as they walked past—the humans and, yes, the alien.

The alien looked different than it had the first time he’d seen it, in the crowd outside Area 51. He knew from simple process of elimination that it had to be the same being, though. A shapeshifter, then. Marvelous.

Over the past five days, the man had been working out their rhythms. Two of the humans lived in the apartment—the oldest and the woman—and one, the young man, came over so often he might as well have, although he was somewhat limited by his work hours. They didn’t seem to stick to a regular routine, but that was all right.

The man had always liked a challenge.

Eventually, they’d leave the alien alone.

And then he’d have it.

Right now, they were all getting out of the oldest’s car, which had just pulled up to the apartment. They were chattering away to each other as they approached the door.

The man smiled.

He was looking forward to this.

...

**FRIDAY**

**THE APARTMENT**

Mac was sitting on the couch when he heard the doorbell ring.

Bozer was at work, and Jack and Riley were off getting their flu shots—from what Mac had been able to gather, Riley had insisted that Jack get his, and he’d agreed on the condition that she get hers at the same time, even though he hated needles. They’d both taken one look at Mac and decided to give him a pass on anything medical, which Mac was both annoyed by and kind of glad about. He wasn’t sure he could handle being in a room with the smell of antiseptic and a lot of shiny metal.

It’d been a while since Jack and Riley left. Maybe this was them coming back? Mac didn’t know how far away they needed to go.

He got up and started towards the door.

As it swung open, Mac just had time to process a strange man standing in the doorway before a gun was pressed to his stomach.

“Don’t move,” said the man.

Mac thought for a moment about his options. He didn’t trust himself to get the gun away from the man without getting shot. Still, a shot to the stomach would likely be non-fatal for him—yes, it would hurt, a lot, but it would heal fairly quickly. Whatever this man was planning... it couldn’t be good. And if he wanted to take him back to Groom Lake, anything was better than that.

But this didn’t seem like the style of the Groom Lake people. They wouldn’t have sent just one person, wouldn’t have needed to resort to threats. And besides, once he was incapacitated by a shot to the stomach, it would be easy for this man to finish him off with a shot to the head before fleeing, so as not to leave a witness.

“What do you want?” Mac asked.

“Come with me. Don’t do anything to indicate distress, in any way.” The man smiled, with all his teeth, and Mac shuddered. “Come along, now.”

The man marched Mac to a car. “Get in.”

Mac did as he was told.

Keeping the gun on Mac, the man removed a syringe from his pocket, uncapped it one-handed, and moved it toward Mac’s neck. “Keep still.”

Mac felt the needle pierce his skin, and a slight burning sensation as whatever was in the syringe entered his body. Quickly, a heavy feeling came over him, and his eyelids started to droop.

Mac fought the sensation as long as he could, but it was a losing battle. The last thing he heard was the man’s voice saying, “good night.”

...

**THE APARTMENT**

**FIFTEEN MINUTES LATER**

“Hey,” said Jack as he and Riley approached the door of the apartment. “That actually went okay.”

“Better than I expected,” said Riley, shoving him.

“Hey!” said Jack, shoving Riley right back. “Show some respect, young lady.”

“Oh, you want me to respect my elders?”

Jack was about to fire back when he put his hand on the doorknob.

It was unlocked.

Jack immediately pushed Riley behind him and slowly opened the door.

“Mac?” called Jack softly as he and Riley walked through the door. “We’re home.”

No response.

Riley and Jack looked at each other.

“Well, nothing’s been disturbed,” said Riley. “Maybe he’s still here somewhere?”

They turned the apartment upside down.

Nothing.

“Maybe he went for a walk?” suggested Riley, a slight quaver in her voice. “And just... happened to leave the door unlocked, even though we left him my keys?”

Jack shook his head. “My spidey sense is tingling something fierce,” he said. “Something bad happened here. And Mac’s in trouble.”

...

**???**

Mac’s first impression as he circled slowly back to awareness was light.

It came from above him, stabbing through closed eyelids.

Then he became aware that he was lying on a cold, hard, flat surface, with his wrists, forehead, hips, and ankles restrained.

And that he wasn’t wearing a shirt.

_ No no no no no not again... _

He was conscious, so either he wasn’t anesthetized or it wasn’t working. He’d had to estimate the doses, it had happened a couple times that he’d misjudged and been left unable to move while they’d cut him open, still feeling the pain. Was this going to be one of those?

Mac tried as hard as he could to open his eyes. Maybe they’d let him try again...

To his surprise, his eyes flew open.

The first thing Mac saw was a hanging light, suspended over him. Quickly, he turned his head away, as much as he could with the restraint in place.

The next thing he saw was a dark-haired man, smiling broadly. “Well, well, well. It’s good to see you finally awake. How are you feeling?”

Memory came flooding back. The man at the door. The gun. The needle.

“I’d be better if you let me go,” Mac spat, trying to sound braver than he felt.

“Well, that wouldn’t be any fun,” the man pouted. “You know, I think we’re a lot alike, you and I.”

“I really doubt that, seeing as I’ve never kidnapped anyone and tied them up in my... what is this, a basement?” Mac was frightened to antagonize the man, but also knew that, if he was going to hurt him, there was probably nothing he could do to stop it. He might as well try to maintain a little dignity, for as long as he could, anyway. It was what Jack would do. Or Riley.

He really hoped they would find him soon.

If they even could.

The man shot him an annoyed look, but quickly recovered. “What I’m saying is that neither one of us really fits in here on Earth. We’re different, so we’re persecuted.”

Mac noticed the man rummaging around on a tray of tools, and felt his heart speed up. “Then why are you doing this?”

“Why?” The man smiled. “Because I want to know what makes you tick. Because alien life  _ fascinates _ me.” He picked up a scalpel and turned to Mac, who closed his eyes as tears started to slide down his face. “Because it’s  _ fun _ .”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Why yes, I left it there. @N1ghtshade, revenge is sweet... (jk I love you). The final chapter is written(!), and will be posted on Tuesday when I get back to my dorm, because I’m currently at my dad’s house, my computer is near death, and I forgot my charger. Best!


	7. In Which There Are Improbable Rescues, and a New Plan is in Order

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, everybody! As promised, I'm posting the final chapter(!) of this fic that has consumed my life (delightfully) for the past month and a half. I've so enjoyed writing it, and I hope you enjoyed reading it as well. This chapter contains guns. I think that's it. Hope you enjoy!

**THE APARTMENT**

“Okay,” said Riley, sitting down with her laptop, “I’m accessing traffic cams in the area... there.”

Jack watched on the screen as a strange man walked up to their door, pulled a gun on Mac, and got him into a car.

“That was nineteen minutes ago. Following that car...” she typed frantically. “They’re in a warehouse.”

“Let’s go.”

...

**WAREHOUSE**

Jack and Riley crept into the warehouse, guns drawn. (It was hard to shake the habit of having a weapon from the CIA days, and neither one of them was particularly inclined to try.)

“Clear!” called Riley from one corner.

“Clear!” Jack echoed from another.

“Wait,” said Riley. “Come look at this.”

A manhole cover in the floor, slightly askew.

Riley started to go in, but Jack stopped her. “Me first.”

He climbed down. “There’s marks on the floor, like something was sitting here for a while. Four of ‘em. I think a cart, maybe.”

“If he needed a cart...” Riley hesitated to voice the rest of the thought.

“Mac might’ve been unconscious when he came here.” Jack looked further down the tunnel. “The marks fade out. And there’s no cameras down here, so I don’t see how we can trace him...” Jack’s voice broke slightly.

Riley opened her mouth, then hesitated for an instant. “There’s... I have an idea, but... there’s a big catch.”

“Lay it on me,” said Jack, voice rock steady.

“I could reactivate Mac’s tracker,” Riley said slowly. “The one the CIA put in him. Unfortunately...”

“That would mean all the baddies who hurt him in the first place could find him too.” Jack sighed. “I’m not too worried about the ones in Nevada, but there’s CIA people everywhere, and if the director of this project decides they want Mac...”

“Exactly,” Riley replied. “But right now, it’s all we’ve got.”

“Well then,” said Jack. “We’ll just have to get there first.”

...

**BASEMENT**

Mac was squeezing his eyes shut, waiting for the inevitable, when he heard a sound.

The door bursting open.

Mac looked over.

_ Jack and Riley. _

They were  _ here. _

He was going to be okay.

“Put down the knife,” Jack was saying, voice low and dangerous. “Nice and easy, now.”

Riley made her way across the room, still holding a gun on the man, and did something Mac couldn’t see.

The scalpel clattered to the floor.

Jack rushed over and started undoing his restraints as Riley kept holding a gun on the man, who for some reason was still smiling. “Oh, boy,” said Jack, lifting Mac up and hugging him. “It’s okay, it’s okay, I gotcha.”

“Sorry I’m—” Mac started to say. Then, he looked at Riley. “I mean, thank you, thank you.” He held onto Jack tightly as he continued to cry, burying his face in Jack’s shirt.

Then, a clatter of boots.

“Freeze!” Those weren’t voices Mac knew.

_ Oh, no. _ The only way Mac could think of for Jack and Riley to have found him is if Riley had reactivated his tracker.

That meant the people in charge of Groom Lake could find him, too.

Riley and Jack seamlessly stepped over to stand in front of Mac, with Riley still holding a gun on the smiling man. “You wanna get to him, you’re gonna have to go through us,” she said.

“Arrest  _ this _ guy, he’s the criminal here,” said Jack, gesturing to the smiling man.

“C’mon,” said one of the agents. “You’re risking your life for an  _ alien? _ ”

“Damn right I am,” said Jack.

And no, no, that wasn’t right, Jack and Riley couldn’t die, it wasn’t  _ fair _ ...

_ You can have me, _ Mac tried to say.  _ I’ll go with you. _ No matter how hard he tried, though, the words weren’t coming out. He just couldn’t get anything past the lump in his throat.  _ C’mon, Mac. What’s wrong with you? _

“This is your final warning,” said the agent.

“And this is yours,” said Jack, raising his gun. “Mac, if this goes wrong, I’m sorry.”

“Click.”

Everyone in the room turned to look at the woman who’d spoken.

_ Samantha. _

She had a gun to one of the CIA agents’ heads and was calmly standing in the doorway. “Now. If all of you will just line up along that wall and let my associates leave, I’ll let yours live.”

All of the agents were going for their guns, only to find them missing. Samantha smiled and held up a bag. “You really have no better option.”

It seemed the agents had come to the same conclusion. They did as instructed.

“Cage?” asked Jack, and it took Mac a moment to realize he was addressing Samantha. “What are you doing here?”

“Not the time,” said Samantha. “Get him out of here. I’ll be in touch.”

“How—”

“GO!”

Jack and Riley got Mac up off the table and ushered him out of the basement.

When they got to the car, Jack bundled Mac into the backseat, then quickly hopped in and drove off as Riley got on her laptop and deactivated Mac’s tracker again. “I figure we have about five minutes to pack. Mac, you good to come in with us? I’ll get your stuff. Riley, get yours and meet back at the car.”

They arrived at the apartment, and Jack gave a cursory look. “Good. Doesn’t look like they’ve found us yet. Let me go in first.”

...

**THE ROAD**

**SOMEONE ELSE’S CAR**

“We should ditch our phones,” said Riley.

“Will do,” said Jack. “Soon as I make one phone call.”

Jack picked up his phone and called Bozer, putting him on speaker. 

“Hey Jack, what’s up?”

“I don’t have time to put this gently. The people from Groom Lake found Mac. We’re getting out of town, and I thought I’d offer you the chance to come with. Fair warning, it’d be permanent. If you come with us... you’re all in.”

Bozer took a deep breath. “Mac?”

“I’ll understand if you don’t want to,” said Mac softly. “I’d never ask you to give up your life just for me.”

Bozer took another deep breath. “Where do I meet you?”

“Cafe in Santa Ana. I’ll text you the address. We’re ditching our phones after that, so don’t try to call back.”

“Okay,” said Bozer. “Don’t know when my life became a spy movie, but okay.”

“We have to go now, 007. See you soon.” Jack hung up.

...

**CAFE IN SANTA ANA**

Mac, Jack and Riley were sitting in the cafe when Bozer walked in.

“Hey,” he said, walking up to them.

“Hey,” Mac replied. “Thank you.”

“Of course. You’re cool, I didn’t want to never see you again.”

Mac smiled a little.

“We all ready to hit the road?”

“Wait,” said Riley. “I wish I could check something, but I left my computer, they might have been tracing it...”

“One moment,” said Bozer. He walked up to a woman who was on her laptop, spoke to her for a minute, and walked back with the laptop in hand, under the woman’s watchful eye. “Go ahead.”

Riley stared. “How... was that a British accent?”

Bozer smiled.

“Okay.”

She quickly clicked through some things, then gave a small shout of triumph. “Found it!”

“Found what?” asked Jack.

“Cage’s communication.”

“What is it?”

“Well, I thought, what do Cage and us both know about Mac that no one else does? And then I thought, his name. You never told anyone on base your name, did you? Except Cage?”

“I called her Samantha, but no, I didn’t,” said Mac.

“Well, anyway, I went on an old message board relating to the show you got your name from. I mean,  _ really _ old. And there was a new post.”

She swiveled the laptop around. On the screen were the words “C12H22O11(s) + H2SO4(aq) + 1/2 O2(g) → 11C(s) + CO2(g) + 12H2O(g) + SO2(g) PLEASE RESPOND”.

“What’s that?” asked Jack.

“It’s the chemical equation for the reaction between sugar and sulfuric acid to produce carbon, and some other stuff,” said Mac, smiling. “It showed up in the first episode of that show. I know how to answer.”

Mac hit “reply”, then typed “ALL SAFE MAC”.

“She’s okay,” said Riley. “She didn’t get arrested. I’m... kinda surprised.”

“I’m not,” said Mac.

“Wow,” said Jack. “Well, now we know how to get in touch with her. She’s welcome with us anytime as far as I’m concerned. Any objections?”

No one raised any.

“Speaking of which, where we going?” asked Bozer.

“I’ll tell you when we’re in the car,” said Jack. “Oh, and we’re all taking your car, by the way.”

...

**BOZER’S CAR**

“You still haven’t told us where we’re going,” said Bozer.

“Well,” said Jack. “It’s not just up to me. But, if nobody minds, I have an idea.”

“I’m listening,” said Riley. “And I’m fairly certain I know what you’re gonna say.”

“What?” asked Mac.

“I have family in Texas,” said Jack. “Mac, I bet they’d love you.”

“They probably would,” said Riley. “I’ve been going to the reunions for years now.”

“How would you  _ explain _ me?” asked Mac.

Jack shrugged. “Well, we’ve got twelve hundred miles to think of  _ something _ .”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello again! Wow. Just, wow. I can't believe it's over.
> 
> I'd like to extend a HUGE thank you to everyone who read, commented or left kudos. I doubt I could have finished this without your support. And thanks for understanding when I had to take a break. Also, another colossal thank you to my "comment regulars"--Flowing_River, fran_22, TeddyTheCat, and, of course, N1ghtshade, to whom this fic is dedicated.
> 
> Thanks again for reading! I wish you all the best!

**Author's Note:**

> Hello again! I hope you liked this! If you did, please let me know below!


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